Through the Eyes of the Beheld
by Jupiter's Promise
Summary: Sequel to "Fighting for Us". Arwen returns home to find something isn't right, and it all centers around her childhood friend. Arwen & Legolas romance.
1. As Dusk Falls

Arwen rode through the gates of Imladris just as the sun dipped low over the horizon, a twin riding easily on either side of her. Her brothers always escorted her to and from the golden wood, ever since their mother's fateful trip.  
  
Her father and Glorfindel stood waiting in the courtyard. Elrond's face was stoic, but she knew he breathed more easily at her safe return. "Adar, mae govannon" she greeted, hurriedly dismounting and throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
"It is good have you home, my Evenstar. How fares 'Lorien, and its lord and lady?" He asked, returning the embrace.  
  
"All is well. Though there is rising shadow along their borders, the Galadrim keep the woods safe. We were not challenged once on our return journey." She reported, and Elrond turned to his sons who nodded. "We were fortunate enough to leave just after a rather extensive raid," explained Elladan, "We met no resistance."  
  
"These are good tidings. Perhaps this darkness can be quelled yet." Glorfindel murmured, and all present agreed that this was a positive sign. "Still, great evil resides in Mirkwood." Elladan added, and this point was agreed upon as well.  
  
"Perhaps the Evil could be conquered if Thranduil would accept any form of aid." Elrohir muttered, glad to have gotten a jab at the Elven king in.  
  
"It is not his way." Elrond replied simply, brushing the conversation aside. "Now, I assume you wish to wash the road from your faces and change out of those riding clothes."  
  
+++++++++++++++++++  
  
The morning dawned clear and true as always in Imladris. Arwen awoke feeling much refreshed by the night's rest and hurried downstairs to attend the morning meal. Her father and brothers were not in attendance, but sometimes they forgot such things, and they showed up soon after her.  
  
Following eating and catching up with friends and acquaintances, Arwen walked along the outer hallways, which were open air and smelt of the beauty of spring.  
  
The morning had been prelude to a glorious day, and everywhere she turned, she was reminded of the magnificent beauty of her valley home.  
  
Lothlorien lent its own allure, and its beauty was ethereal, but Imladris seemed more majestic, and its charms captured her heart no matter how many times she returned to them.  
  
After she had been home a few days however, something about the place struck her as different than before. It was not that Rivendell itself had changed, per say; it was her family that acted different.  
  
Elrond, ever a recluse since the death of his wife, seemed more buried in his work than usual. Elrohir and her father were now always absent from the evening meal. "Their work will be done soon," was all Glorfindel would ever say, and the thought of their work being 'done' seemed to sadden him.  
  
When her father finally emerged from whatever it was he was doing, he seemed tried and cheerless. Arwen did not press the matter, but through word of mouth she learned that Elrond was spending his mornings treating a patient.  
  
This was the extent of her knowledge on a rainy night in mid spring. This particular night was not unlike any other, and Arwen was standing on a balcony watching the tiny missiles of water pelt the ground when a noise caught her ear.  
  
She recognized the figures of her father and brother standing in a gazebo at the edge of the garden. Exiting the cover and ignoring the showers that soaked her head, Arwen approached. "There is little hope for him," her father was whispering as she came into earshot.  
  
"Little hope for who?" Arwen asked, and both males turned to look at her. When they saw who it was, they both became silent and Elrohir took her hand and pulled her under the cover.  
  
"Has this not gone on long enough Adar?" she asked the peredhil lord, "I wish to know what burden so heavily weighs on my father and brother's countenances."  
  
"Understand my Evenstar," Elrond replied painfully, "I cannot place this weight on your shoulders."  
  
"Adar how can you say that! You barely eat and ever the worry is present in your eyes. This already weighs on my mind, and in my heart. I worry after you father!" Arwen cried, thoroughly frustrated by her father's reluctance.  
  
Elrond looked at the ground before turning to Elrohir. "Tell your sister." he bade softly. Elrohir made no reply but looked to his sister. "Come Arwen. It is best that I show you." He pulled off his cloak and put it on her shoulders before leading her back out into the rain.  
  
Elrond remained for some time, and even when the sun was fully gone and the candle soaked beyond usefulness he sat, long contemplating in the darkness.  
  
"Arwen, do you remember long ago when the days were brighter and Elves still came from all across Middle Earth to celebrate the Starlight Festival?" he inquired. "It was not so long ago," she answered quietly.  
  
"Of course not. But it has been a hundred years and more since the Elves of Mirkwood in particular have visited our borders." Her brother pointed out, and to this Arwen agreed but said nothing. She didn't see what it had to do with her father's preoccupation.  
  
Elrohir continued, "Do you remember the last time they came? With them came a boy who I believe became your faithful companion during the days of the festival." Arwen stopped and turned to her brother, silently demanding further explanation as to why this particularly bittersweet memory had been awakened.  
  
"While you were gone, a party from Mirkwood arrived in our gates, and among them was a certain warrior. It is he that is the source of father's unrest." Elrohir explained.  
  
"Say now what you mean to say Elrohir, I'll have no more dancing around it." Arwen demanded, locking he eyes with his.  
  
"Legolas of Mirkwood is the warrior of which I speak."  
  
And I'm spent.that was the first chapter of the sequel to fighting for us! If you liked this, read the first one, and maybe you could.oh I dunno.review both? Hehe, wishful thinking I know. Anyway, thanks as always! -J.P. 


	2. In Still of Darkness

CHAPTER 2- In Still of Darkness  
  
A silence as potent as the rain fell around them. Arwen could sense reluctance in her brother. Being his sister for so many years, his mental deliberations were practically being broadcast to her. She was not prepared for him to turn and walk the other way.  
  
"You would leave me at that?" she cried, for sure enough he had abandoned their original path and was stealing back towards the main hall. He stopped at the end of the corridor,  
  
"Arwen, know this. Memories are the most vital part of Legolas left in this world. All else is only a shadow of what it once was- and do not doubt my determination in this matter.  
  
"I have sat with him many long hours trying to discover the source of the shadow which lies upon him. Do not be so eager to alter that which you have. There is nothing you can do for him. Forget this moment, and ask no more of me."  
  
He did not wait for a reply and continued around the corner. She felt her cheeks go red and had half a mind to drag him back and demand he show her to Legolas immediately. It came as a surprise to her however, that she sensed within herself a great reluctance to make any more progress towards seeing the Prince of Mirkwood again.  
  
'After all,' she thought bitterly, 'what can I do?' For a moment she lingered where she stood. Then numbly, Arwen turned and headed towards her room.  
  
********************************  
  
She slept fitfully, and her dreams were plagued by the guilt of her heart. He visited her once. She had awoken, and there he was, standing at the foot of her bed, outlined in the pale rays of the moon. His form was familiar, an Elfling with a blackened eye- a memory.  
  
"Legolas?" she softly pushed his name out and into the stillness of night. He shook his head,  
  
"Your words and thoughts come to naught, for I am dead to you." At this he took a step back and vanished.  
  
He was with her the rest of the night.  
  
********************************  
  
By the time sunlight had replaced moonlight in a slow traverse across her windowpane, Arwen's mind was made up. She dressed quickly, and dismissing her maid descended to the great hall.  
  
She ate breakfast, trying to be as sociable as possible, but Glorfindel immediately sensed a change in her manner.  
  
"Something wrong, my lady?" he inquired with more curiosity then actual concern.  
  
Arwen almost automatically replied that everything was fine, but she caught herself and decided to say the truth. There was no use in lying to Glorfindel anyway. He would know the real answer no matter what she said.  
  
"Yes Glorfindel, something is wrong." She answered, "But worry not, for before the day is out all shall be put to right."  
  
He narrowed his eyes and gazed at her unflinchingly for a moment as if deciding carefully what to say next. Unfortunately, when he finally did open his mouth to speak, he was cut off by the appearance of Elrond in a flurry of fine red robes.  
  
The lord extended his usual sincere apologies, but Elven nobles are quick to catch on to patterns and in his lateness he was right on time. Elrohir came soon after, muttering a much less articulate apology as he sank into his own place.  
  
Arwen participated in all the necessary banter, but was gone before the final course was even served, pleading lethargy from a sleepless night.  
  
She immediately made her way to the garden, and successively the hallway where Elrohir had left her. In her distress, Arwen had not noticed that it was part of the healing wing. It was in this part of the house, and in his study, where Elrond had effectively barricaded himself from the outside world since the death of her mother.  
  
She herself had seldom walked these halls, as her family received any necessary medical attention in their own private quarters, and whenever possible, from Elrond himself.  
  
She stopped a passing matron.  
  
"Pray tell me where I may find my father." She requested.  
  
"He had planned to make an appearance at breakfast, Lady Arwen." The other replied.  
  
"I have just come from that meal, he was not present. He must have been delayed, where can I find him?" Arwen felt a faint prick of embarrassment at having to lie, but it was absolutely necessary that she see Legolas alone, and if the matron suspected she might be visiting him without the permission of the lord, as she no doubt would, she would be sure to inform Elrond immediately.  
  
The matron gave her instructions to reach the place where Legolas was presumably staying, and hurried off on her way. As soon as she disappeared behind a corner, Arwen hurried off.  
  
********************************  
  
Coming at last to the right place, Arwen lingered in the corridor. It seemed so much safer with the door and the memories between them. Suddenly a conversation they'd once had came to mind. 'You're my best friend,' he had told her.  
  
It was strange that a friendship that had lasted only the span of a few days- a few hours really could weigh so heavily on her mind. Still, they say Elves seldom forget, and Arwen held those memories very dear to her.  
  
The fact that there were so very few just made them seem all the more precious.  
  
She resolved herself finally, and knocked stiffly on the door. The knock echoed loudly within. She waited for the door to swing open, for any noise from within, but her ears would have caught even the faintest rustle, and they heard nothing.  
  
She willed herself to knock again, this time more forcefully, but again no answer. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. Could he be so seriously wounded that he was bed-ridden? But why then wouldn't he call out? He couldn't have slept through the knocking, it had been loud enough to rouse a sleeping dwarf, and should have been plenty to awaken an elf.  
  
At this point Arwen was at a loss. Barging in would no doubt be considered unprecedented rudeness, yet she had a feeling that her acquisition of courage would be fleeting.  
  
She reached for the handle of the door and turned it slowly. Expecting resistance, she was surprised to find it gave no opposition-it was unlocked.  
  
After pausing for a breath she steeled herself, pulled it open with a forceful jerk and stepped inside.  
  
The first thing Arwen saw was nothing, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room she began to discern shadows and outlines. Darkness, eerie and foreign to such an hour, lay over the room like a heavy curtain. It seemed to constrict around her, and Arwen felt herself shrink back towards the hall.  
  
The small beam of light around her began to recede, and the shadows approached as the door began to swing shut.  
  
Click  
  
The room fell into darkness.  
  
A.N. Hmmm, that was a rather nasty ending wasn't it. I'm very sorry but due to time restraints (midterms) I really have to post this as is. Anyway, thanks to all you people who reviewed and who reviewed the last chapter of FFU, my last fic. If you don't know, your reviews will now be responded to by me- J.P.  
  
()- There you are, a new chapter! Thanks for the review.  
  
Lady Scribe- I am so glad you are enjoying it immensely, and I hope you continue to do so. Luck o' the Irish to ye as well, or as the Japanese say, lets both do our best!  
  
Karone Evertree- ::hugs:: You are the best, thanks so much for sticking with my stories! It is so nice that you'd keep taking your time to review, and I always like seeing a familiar face. Anyway, bet you thought I'd let you know what's wrong with Leggy in this chapter didn't you? (: Anyway, thanks also for your review of FFU.  
  
Itarildë Vardamir – You've been doing lots of reading. Your English teacher would be proud...actually they'd probably tell you to go find something good to read. I know mine did! Thank you.  
  
Caroline Jordan- Another person I know! Thanks for the review, and I hope to hear from you again.  
  
GiGi- Aren't they always cliffies with me? Thanks for the welcome back (:  
  
Wolfie07821- You're not gonna like me one bit for this chapter...  
  
Just-Some-Girl1- Please don't die! I guess I'll have to update quick to make up for another cliffhanger.  
  
Gionareth: What is wrong with Legolas? Stay tuned to find out!!!!  
  
Amy- I shall, many thanks.  
  
Little- lost- one- Here's some more, thanks for your review.  
  
Farflung- Thanks for the comments, and for taking time to review. It means a lot to me and I hope to do better for it.  
  
Iirima- Woot! That is such a cool word. Anyway, I'm so happy you enjoyed it. Here's the next chapter, and I thank you for your patience. As to your review of FFU, yes, that's it for that. Anyway, I have similar sentiments for Aragorn and this particular pairing.  
  
Pishymishy- Yes, we is tricksy isn't we. I'm glad you felt FFU, and I hope you enjoy this baby too. Many thanks to you my loyal friend, your messages mean so much to me! 


	3. Getting to know you, again

The sound of her breathing was like a gust of wind in the dead air of the room. The only light that penetrated in came from two slits in the far wall where a few bright sunbeams had sneaked past the edge of the thick drapes. Arwen's eyes further adjusted to the gloom, and she recognized a comforting shape set atop the medicine shelf.  
  
The lantern was small, as was the flame Arwen's words coaxed forth, but the fire was a cheery companion and Arwen said a prayer of thanks in its honor.  
  
Now, with the aid of the fire, she made a renewed effort to survey the area. It was outfitted as any healing room might be. A basin sat on a shelf which stood against the wall. Beside it were some soft brown cloths, some splashed with water, and all carelessly discarded in a rudimentary pile.  
  
Set upon the other shelves were numerous miscellaneous bottles in varying stages of emptiness. All were corked, their labels to the front. They were arranged with the precision of an army.  
  
Arwen almost smiled at the thought of her father carefully using and replacing each bottle, and her brother, tossing his used rag in the general direction from whence it had come.  
  
There was a fireplace to the left of the shelf, put it was pristine, and unused. Beside it was a rack with some tool for tending a blaze and a rack upon which were stacked five logs, looking just as they must have the day they fell.  
  
To the right of both of these was the window, but in the light of the fire, Arwen saw it was also a door, which no doubt led to a balcony. She was tempted to rip off the offending curtains, with the sun's bright rays so close at hand.  
  
Suddenly a sound behind her caught her attention. She whirled about, forgetting completely about the curtains, and realized that the chest, which she had neglected to explore after the discovery of the lamp, was set against a slab of wood.  
  
The wood was carved with a simple design of interweaving loops, and at the top was carved an ancient Elvish prayer for the wounded. She recognized the thing at once- it was a footboard. Soundlessly, Arwen took a step towards it.  
  
The area encompassed by the lamp's light moved forward with her, and two posts burst forth from the top of the wood. Beyond this, an immaculate white cloth lay, and as the light moved further, she saw laying upon it a hand.  
  
She stopped and studied it, lightly set palm down. The forefinger, which curved slightly, was calloused, as was the thumb. Like the sheet, it was pale and unadorned, save for a Mithril chain loosely encircling the lower wrist. There was a small leaf charm placed upon it.  
  
Arwen continued to slowly move closer, and the arm appeared before her.  
  
As the elbow came into the circle of light, Arwen's shins touched against the chest, and her powerful caution, now replaced with a burning desire to see him once more could not stop her. She swung around the post, and approached the bedside.  
  
She could now see where the edge of the sheet met his collarbone, and where the sturdy arm met the shoulder. It was all just as pale as the hand had been, and reminded Arwen just how much the sheet resembled a shroud.  
  
She shuddered, and horrible ideas, unbidden, filled her mind, then reaching out, gingerly touched the hand. Its warmth banished the evil thoughts, and renewed her strength.  
  
She leaned over him with the lantern, and suddenly his face came into view. A breath caught in her throat, and all was silent.  
  
He was indeed fair, his face set with the high, defined cheekbones which his ancestors always possessed in the history books. Though it was slightly pale, there was a tinge of pink across his cheeks, and even unto the pointed tips of his ears.  
  
It was his eyes, a deep crystalline blue, which held her. She immediately remembered the first moment she had seen him, and how his eyes had caught her then too. They had held her ever since, standing out from the stormy gray so common to Rivendell.  
  
Now, the orbs were clouded, no doubt by sleep, and for a moment, she watched him silently, suspended in a dream.  
  
Suddenly, a hand grasped her wrist tightly, and Arwen gave a startled yelp. She tumbled to the floor and dropped the lantern, which extinguished itself as it hit the ground and rolled away.  
  
Her arm still imprisoned in the hold, Arwen pulled back, but the grip was firm.  
  
"Who are you, and why are you here?" came a whisper.  
  
"Arwen." She replied, and the fingers immediately released her wrist.  
  
"Arwen?" The whisper asked.  
  
"Yes," she reassured, just as her searching fingers found the lamp. She lifted it again, and summoned another flame.  
  
He was sitting up now, gazing unflinchingly in the direction of the lamp, and her. She looked into his eyes, and was surprised to see the haziness still lying within them.  
  
"Ada told me that you were injured." She continued. He said nothing, and continued to gaze through the flame. She gave him a quick once-over, but besides the unnatural paleness, she couldn't see any injuries. Instead he seemed to have just awoken from some deep slumber, still peeling back the last layers of sleep from his eyes.  
  
"May I stay with you for a while?" her words stumbled out into the still air, but it was his silence that echoed throughout the room. She awkwardly stood still, determined to force him into action, and finally he pointed to the corner of the room where sat a simple wooden chair.  
  
She lifted it over to the bedside and sat down beside him.  
  
'If only there were a little light or noise here,' Arwen thought, but when Legolas reacted by blinking in surprise, she realized she had spoken aloud. To Arwen's surprise it was he that spoke first:  
  
"Break the silence, if you dare. It is not my companion of choice, but for some time it has been my only companion." His voice was soft and choked, from ill use she hoped.  
  
Arwen felt sympathy and guilt overwhelm her. He must have been so lonely, lying there in the dark. Obviously his family could not keep him company and he had no other friends in Rivendell that she knew of.  
  
Only she knew him here, and only she cared that he was slipping into despair. She still did not understand that from which the despair stemmed. But Arwen was determined to be there for him now.  
  
'I will know when I must.' she promised herself.  
  
"Maybe then, I can replace this silence with a more cheery countenance. I will tell you a story, or sing you a song if you like." Arwen offered.  
  
He nodded immediately, and she was encouraged by his enthusiasm. She began with the tale of how the Valar had taken physical form and come to Arda to combat the evil of Melkor.  
  
It was a common story, and she was positive Legolas must have heard it a thousand times from his own people, yet he did not object. In fact, he listened silently and attentively, as one hearing a new and astonishing tale of things he barely dares to believe.  
  
And so it was that for many short hours she spoke, and he listened. She appreciated his undivided attention, and he never once succumbed to the ever-present haze in his eyes.  
  
She had heard these tales herself more than a few times, but the young do not recount to the old and she rarely told them herself.  
  
Though she listened mostly, when she did speak, her voice was always harped upon. The Peredhil Lord was regarded across the land for his exquisite storytelling and his daughter spoke no less enchantingly. Once a traveler from Lorien had proclaimed that her voice seemed to sing, even when she simply spoke.  
  
When she reached the tale of the coming of light to the land, she bounded up and crossed the room. His eyes remained trained on her previous spot until she called to him. She now stood at the drapes.  
  
"Allow me to lift the curtain of night from this dark land." She requested.  
  
He seemed to consider this for a moment before finally replying.  
  
"You may open the blinds if you wish." He said slowly. "I requested they be shut because true darkness only makes mine less lonely."  
  
She nodded but as she drew the drapes, Arwen wondered what he might have meant by that. He had turned away from her again and seemed unlikely to clarify.  
  
In the next instant, light invaded the room, and the noonday sky painted itself on the newly denuded window. Arwen smiled in approval and turned to look over the room again. The light decorated the walls of the once crypt- like place, and made it almost cheery.  
  
Legolas reached out his hands.  
  
"I had forgotten the warm touch of the sun's hands." He commented, and she decided that that was a great improvement over his former, more cryptic remarks.  
  
Greatly pleased with herself and smiling more openly now, Arwen sat down again. She left the lantern burning, because to kill it seemed a sin, and began to speak again.  
  
The recently rediscovered light of day made her giddy and she spoke more joyfully now, and with even greater emotion. At numerous points, she jumped up and illustrated the words even as she spoke them.  
  
He listened with determination and seemed to note all of her words, many as there were, and the vast tale of their history flew by on the wings of her breath. Then, just as she spoke of Gil-galad, the sound of a bell caught her ear.  
  
"Oh! That will be the lunch bell. I'll have to hurry so that no one worries." She explained as she rose from the seat.  
  
"I believe you are mistaken my lady. I believe that was the dinner bell you heard." Legolas cautiously explained. She widened her eyes and stood up.  
  
"Ai, now I'll have to think of just when I've been all these hours." She softly said.  
  
"You have my faith lady. After all, your stories have enchanted me." He said casually, and she blushed crimson in reply.  
  
"Maybe tomorrow if you feel well enough you could step out onto the balcony." She suggested, but he shook his head.  
  
"Do not misread me lady. I do not mean to say that the idea offends. Unfortunately, I have no appropriate clothes. Indeed, I have no clothes to speak of at all. You see the floor seems to have swallowed my original set and I have been brought nothing else." They both blushed at this and she smiled secretly.  
  
"An unintended oversight, I assure you." She told him.  
  
"Though not altogether surprising. Maybe if I left my bed at some point someone would notice my nakedness." he mused.  
  
"But therein lies the problem; someone will notice your nakedness!" she cried, and he smiled softly.  
  
This positive reaction made Arwen also smile, but then she remembered her pervious haste and immediately turned towards the door.  
  
"You will make me late Legolas!" she cried as she grabbed the handle.  
  
"You will come tomorrow? And bring me clothes?" he asked with a quickness that she loved.  
  
"Perhaps." She replied slyly, opening the door and walking out of the room.  
  
"If you do not I will seek you out." Legolas called to her, and she gave a laugh before starting to pull the door shut. At the click of the latch she was gone, and to Legolas, it seemed the room fell into darkness once more.  
  
Thar she blows! The next chapter done! Sorry it took so long, but I've been so busy! Was it worth waiting for? I hope so. Anyway, hopefully I'll have more free time soon.  
  
Klic: Hehe, um, well, about that. It really all depends on how you define rapidly (: Anyway, my apologies go out to you. I'll keep trying my best!  
  
Pishymishy: I always enjoy reading your comments and I'm sorry about all those cliffhangers. This one ends a little more...summarily. Hope you're still interested!  
  
Karone Evertree: Sorry, but what happened to Legolas will be revealed at a later point. I think it I told you guys now, I'd ruin the surprise. Please bear with me, I'll do my best to crank out the chapters so that we can reach that point with all swiftness! Also, thanks so much for your review!  
  
Farflung: I appreciate the comment a lot. Also, thanks for understanding. You guy's kindness really makes me want to try harder. 


	4. The Importance of Legs

Arwen cursed the tiny droplets of rain that fell around her. They impacted the roof of the open-air passage with merciless consistency, a ceaseless chorus of taunts.  
  
She was normally rather fond of the steady drops which fell over Rivendell each year as surely as the sun rose and set each day, but this day, they were unwelcome.  
  
"Oh rain, of all the unpleasant visitors to inquire at Imladris' gates..." she sighed and continued to walk. The thoroughfare was surprisingly crowded, and the numerous footfalls blended with the rain's pitter-patter and the mutter of voices into a soft percussive refrain that echoed in Imladris' vaulted ceilings only to add onto itself again and again.  
  
Arwen glanced out over the railing and paused for a moment to survey the scene in the garden below her. She recognized Megundhros standing a few feet away from a towering tree. The ancient, who was wrapped in a rainbow of protective layers, seemed to be giving orders to a troupe of human soldiers.  
  
Everything about the adviser was wispy, from her thin blond hair to her delicate, pale skinned arms, now obscured by bright red sleeves. Her face bore no sign of the countless years of her existence. Like most of the adults in her life, Megundhros had changed little in all the time Arwen had known her.  
  
The old elf's delicate, ceremonial look was belied by her powerful commands. She seemed to have convinced the men to try to climb up into the tree which towered beside her.  
  
Their first attempt was a disaster, and they fell one by one into the mud, cursing faintly and rising slowly. They had clearly never climbed a tree before, but they went at it a second time, still clothed in all their mail, their scabbards dangling into the faces of the climbers below as they scaled.  
  
Once in the mud for the second time, Megundhros chided them gently, and their pride drove them back up with speed that was only matched by how quickly they were down again.  
  
They valiantly drove up the trunk one more time, gripping the tree with all of their strength and desperately grasping at the slick bark. Arwen turned and started back towards her destination. She entered a door which led to the inner rooms of the healing wing.  
  
'Good luck.' She whispered in farewell to the soldiers. As if in reply, a moist thud rose from the garden.  
  
The way was straightforward now, and Arwen hummed a tune despite the disagreeable blessing from above, which pounded loudly enough to be heard very faintly, even now in the beating heart of Rivendell.  
  
Just as in the outer hall, elves were passing around her, each determinedly focused on his or her own mission. It was the kind of day where everyone was doing something, but no one was in any particular hurry to do anything. The mood of Rivendell was subdued—steady.  
  
Arwen's humming only ceased when she turned out of the mainstream. Knocking softly, she stood outside the appropriate door.  
  
"Come," bid a voice from within, and Arwen opened the door and walked in. There were at least a hundred witnesses, but Arwen wasn't worried. No one noticed her.  
  
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, one leg bent at the knee and tucked under the other, which hung over the side of the bed loosely. His hands rested upon his upper thighs, and he was looking at her passively, a bit of humor on his lips.  
  
He clearly noted her perception of his only garment, a haphazardly placed sheet which lay across his lap in a tangled bundle. A smile broke across his face.  
  
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Legolas." She said, but her eyes reflected the same humor present on his lips, "How long have you been waiting for me?"  
  
"Not terribly long," He replied casually, "Since last night around dinner time." Arwen shook her head in mock seriousness.  
  
"Just wear this until something better turns up." She tossed him a robe.  
  
It had been a bundle occupying the space under her arm, and before that the dusty (and hopefully forgotten) space in the back of Elladan's wardrobe. Legolas caught the bundle, and glanced at it fleetingly, then he looked up and just stared at her. A puzzled look crossed her face.  
  
She was just about to inquire about what was the matter when he spoke.  
  
"You're welcome to watch if you really like but now is your last chance to turn around if you'd prefer not to." He said, smiling amiably.  
  
Arwen's eyes went wide for moment, and her face ripened like a tomato. She quickly spun around and began to display an acute fascination with the opposite wall. After a moment's rustling she spoke,  
  
"Does it fit alright?" she inquired.  
  
"Yes." He replied  
  
"Well does it look alright?"  
  
He seemed not to have considered this, and there was a moment of hesitation before he answered,  
  
"Your eyes can judge better than mine." He murmured, so Arwen turned and looked.  
  
She frowned and walked up to him. She adjusted it a bit, moving the shoulder up and fussing with one of the sleeves.  
  
"What is it?" Legolas asked.  
  
"To be honest, I'm not absolutely sure." Arwen hesitated and looked him over entirely.  
  
"It's the right size, it's just..."  
  
"It doesn't fit me?" he suggested, "Strange that you should have that opinion, for I have always thought so myself. Not about this robe in particular, but about robes in general. Their freedom is constricting, especially when one is climbing trees."  
  
Arwen smiled, "Perhaps your parents wanted you doing something else besides climbing trees when they got you dressed up in robes."  
  
"It's possible I suppose." Legolas replied, taking no more time to consider it now than he could have as a boy.  
  
Arwen finally surrendered and let the robe fall free. After she took a step back, Legolas, who had all this time been sitting on the edge of the bed, pushed himself off and stood.  
  
He was still half a head taller than her, until his knees buckled and he fell to her feet. Arwen gasped and knelt beside him.  
  
"Are you alright?" she frantically asked, but he didn't answer. He was staring at his legs with an intense look of fear. Tentatively, he reached out his right hand. Arwen saw now that it was trembling greatly.  
  
This hand was not the confident weapon of an archer, not the cool, purposeful will of a king. It was the keen fear of a bird stripped of its wings.  
  
He reached out and touched his legs, as if to be sure that they still existed. Arwen looked to his eyes for instructions but the deep blue orbs swirled with ambiguity, and their meaning seemed as obvious as that of any rippled September sky.  
  
"Are your legs hurt?" she finally asked. It took him a moment to answer, for he seemed to be trying to remember, as if the occurrence surrounding his hospitalization had largely faded from his mind.  
  
Suddenly, as quickly as he had been unsure he was positive. Arwen watched Legolas' eyes, and noted how like they were to the great blue sky. Right now, with rapid suddenness they were changing.  
  
From fearful they had come, and gone to thoughtful as he remembered. Now they grew clouded and dark. Yes, they were the sky, and a storm was coming.  
  
He pushed himself up with a fierce suddenness, but had to lean heavily against her to keep from falling again. She caught him, and together they pushed him up to his full height.  
  
They stood like this for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he slowly moved into a forward step, and then a little more quickly, another. Arwen stayed with him, and occasionally he leaned against her for support.  
  
Once he lost his balance, but he got up again and continued on with his walking. They strode around the room nearly fifty times, and with each step Legolas' confidence soared. He was pleased to conquer the malady of his legs so quickly. It now seemed that battling certain other maladies might not be so impossible after all.  
  
He found himself grinning with the intense pleasure of moving again. A blush colored his cheeks too, as he realized he might have been leaning on Arwen a little more than was really necessary.  
  
After some amount of walking, she stepped away from him, but she continued to hold his hand, and they were able to walk together, side by side. He kept pace with her, though the only support she gave was her presence.  
  
Finally, he suggested that she tell him another story, and she agreed.  
  
"Which story shall I tell you?" she asked as she sat down, this time on his unoccupied bed.  
  
He, who was still standing and aimed to remain so, thought for a moment, before he suggested:  
  
"I should very much like to hear the story of Arien, and the coming of light to the land."  
  
She laughed and shook her head,  
  
"But I've already told you that one," she chided gently.  
  
"Yes I know, and since then that story has become a particular favorite of mine. After all, a thing itself is much more evocative than an image, or a word of that thing. You are my Arien, for you have brought light to my world. I will forever love that story, for it will forever be ours." He explained, a sincere smile brightening his whole face.  
  
This was reason enough for Arwen, and she told the story again. This time she was still, and he paced the room, retracing his steps exactly. After telling that tale, she asked him if he might tell one to her.  
  
He thought about it, and momentarily decided on a story about the Ents. It was a sad story, as many old tales are wont to be, and interwoven in its words were songs and bits of verse. They were sung in many languages, including one Arwen had never heard before.  
  
"It is the language of the trees," Legolas explained, "At least that of those trees who reside in my forest home."  
  
"Who taught you to speak it?" Arwen asked, amazed at the prospect.  
  
"Why, a tree of course." Legolas laughed and Arwen realized that she'd overlooked this obvious answer.  
  
"Elves taught the trees to speak long ago, and they still do." Legolas continued.  
  
"And how does one come to hear a tree?" Arwen inquired.  
  
"One need only listen," he replied, and with this he sang again in the language.  
  
Arwen knew that the Elves of the forest were very much attuned with the trees. She knew Legolas had climbed them and lived among them all his life. She considered her peoples love for the sky. The stars and the moon were their great passion.  
  
"Here in my home, we regard the stars as you do the trees."  
  
"So the trees admire the stars. See how they stretch towards the heavens all their days. They can only admire the twinkling balls of light from afar." He said sadly.  
  
"Until the stars shoot down from the heavens to join them." She finished. They spoke for a little longer, but before long it was time for lunch again and she was gone.  
  
Elrond was present at the noontime meal, and Arwen arrived just in time to hear him speaking with his seneschal. Elrond was amazed at how much progress the prince of Mirkwood had made.  
  
"Over the last few days, it is as if he has woken up. I would be little surprised if he is walking again soon." Her father was saying.  
  
Glorfindel shook his head in wonder,  
  
"Amazing." He exclaimed, "When he arrived here, the shadow of death was upon him, and when he showed no sign of improvement..." Glorfindel abandoned this idea quickly, "All I can say is that it is truly a testament to your skill as a healer my lord." He finished.  
  
Elrond shook his head though.  
  
"I can think of nothing I have done that could cause such a remarkable reversal of his state." Elrond caughed softly before continuing,  
  
"My original diagnosis was near so grave as yours, but things are going well. It is that child of mine, who this must be attributed to." Arwen's mouth fell open. Had he known of her visits all along?  
  
"Verily my lord, it is Elrohir's doing." Glrofindel agreed, and Arwen realized her mistake. She smiled. They could only keep their visits a secret for so long. She would not correct him until then. After all, her father had been correct—it could be attributed to one of his children.  
  
The next day it rained again, the men were going at the tree again, and Arwen again wondered what could be up there.  
  
When she arrived at his room she found him in his bed, and immediately he began describing to her how her father had jumped when, calling to Elrohir (who had gone out a moment to flirt with a nurse) to bring him a bottle, he found Legolas fetching it for him instead.  
  
Arwen found the thought of her stoic father so caught off guard quite funny. She wasn't precisely sure why, but she also felt relieved that he hadn't explained to her father just who it was that was responsible for his recovery.  
  
'Let him go on believing what he will.' She thought, 'Elrohir shan't complain.'  
  
She snapped back to the real world, when she heard Legolas speak.  
  
"What was that?" she asked.  
  
"Let's go outside." He suggested again, inciting from her a look of bewilderment.  
  
"But it's raining." She protested.  
  
"Aye, it is, but rain is a feast for the senses, and mine are starving."  
  
Surrendering to his logic, she helped him up, and though he could walk almost by himself, she aided him out the door to help off the morning stiffness.  
  
They stood in the rain for a full moment, and though he suppressed them to silence she could feel heavy breaths rumbling up his rib cage, and shivers from what seemed to be an intense combination of pleasure and cold.  
  
Finally, he let off a dismissing breath, and slowly dropped down to the balcony floor. He leaned back to lay his entire body against the cool, sleek stone. His hand was outstretched and lay palm down, fingers slightly curled on the ground.  
  
She had sunken with him and now sat beside him, her knees resting against her chest and her eyes trained on him.  
  
The rain was falling in a thick shade, and though they were side by side, the sheets of mist between them made Legolas' form seem little more than a fuzzy outline to Arwen.  
  
Neither spoke. Both seemed content let the rain chatter idly between them. It was very surely soaking his hair, and his only good robe, which she had brought him. She looked at his calloused hand lying before her, and on a whim she took it up into her lap.  
  
With focused attention, she began to study it. His fingers were very long, and his knuckles were especially thick, notably more so than his fingers. His hands seemed to be altered in any way that might allow him to climb a tree faster or let an arrow fly truer.  
  
On his wrist she noticed the mithril chain, still hanging loosely, its tiny leaf charm now sporting a shining glaze of rain. She took it gently between her fingers, and examined it closely. Suddenly, his hand slipped from her lap but the loose mithril loop remained in her hands.  
  
Arwen gasped,  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, realizing quickly the rain might have drowned her out. She lifted his hand back up and slipped the chain easily over it, releasing his arm gently when she finished. He pulled it back before his face and with his other hand felt the gap between the chain and his arm.  
  
"It is a bit too big, don't you think?" she asked no louder than before. Evidently he heard her, for soon he spoke.  
  
"Its because it doesn't belong there." He answered, "Its an anklet."  
  
He slipped it off of his wrist again and sat up. The rain was soaked all through his hair and the locks had become slightly darker.  
  
Suddenly she felt a hand on her calf. She jumped, but before she could recoil it, he had slipped the mithril chain onto her ankle. She examined it, and looked up at him.  
  
"Hmm, looks better on you anyway." He said, nodding in satisfaction before sinking back down to the ground and closing his eyes.  
  
Arwen realized suddenly how wet she was, but the most surprising part was that she wasn't cold. The rain was actually pleasant. With a coy smile, she rested her head upon his stomach, lying perpendicular to him.  
  
His eyes flashed open in shock just as hers closed softly, but after a moment he closed them again, and just lay there. Though there was no bright sun to tell it, the noon was fading away.  
  
The rain ceased and as dusk disseminated on the land, so too a feeling of serenity filled every part of Rivendell. The city and her citizens were at rest, and though recently darkness had reared its hideous form nearer and nearer to her borders, she slept easy in the wake of the gentle storm. There would be time for those struggles later.  
  
The next morning brought a break in the showers, and the sun was shining pleasantly on the two elves, who had again decided to spend the day outside again.  
  
Legolas seemed averse to the idea of an actual walk, so Arwen, reminding herself that she had to lead him one step at a time, agreed that the balcony would suffice.  
  
As they stood at the rail, looking over, Legolas spoke.  
  
"There is a tree down there making an amazing racket." He noted, "For a tree that is."  
  
Arwen listened hard but she couldn't hear anything that alluded to the speech of trees.  
  
"What does it say?" she asked.  
  
"It says that if the hard skinned men scaling its hide night and day don't cease their scrapings it will be skinned before nightfall." Legolas looked confused, but Arwen understood.  
  
"It's those soldiers." She explained, "Megundhros has convinced them that there's something up in that tree worth their efforts. Is it very angry? I never considered that trees wouldn't like to be climbed."  
  
"Trees don't mind being climbed. It sounds to me like what they're doing isn't climbing at all." He shrugged, and whispered something in the speech of the trees.  
  
"What did you say?" she inquired.  
  
"I asked it what the morsel the armored men are clamoring for is. It says there is a cat perched in its boughs." Legolas replied.  
  
Arwen gasped. So they really were going after something. It wasn't just Megundhros' eccentrics.  
  
Looking back down at the area below, Arwen could catch no sight of the animal. Unfortunately, signs of the men were rampant. There were some sections of the tree where the abrasive chain mail had scraped away bark, and the crushing force of armored bodies had transformed the area directly below into a mud hole.  
  
"They are going about it rather brutishly." She observed, "But by their colors I would guess them men of Rohan, and there is little opportunity or desire to climb trees for the riders of the plain."  
  
Legolas nodded,  
  
"I'll leave the horse breeding to them if they leave the tree climbing to me." He announced grimly, and Arwen laughed at his seriousness.  
  
"That's not a bad idea." Her laughter had stopped and her look was thoughtful, "Couldn't you climb the tree and get the cat down?"  
  
He shook his head, and said nothing.  
  
"You can't honestly think yourself incapable. Your legs are back in order and that tree is not half so tall as the Horple I knew you to climb before even reaching your majority." Arwen pointed out, "Look at it, you can't say you don't see that too."  
  
He blinked, and Arwen thought she saw a bolt of pain cross his eyes, but he suddenly turned away and she couldn't be sure what emotion had flared up within him.  
  
"I...I think I'm getting cold." He trailed off and seemed more distant suddenly. She opened her mouth to question him, but he turned and marched back towards the doorway. He nervously groped for the door handle and when he caught hold of it he walked back into his room.  
  
"Is something wrong?" she called after him, but he had vanished into the room and no answer came.  
  
Arwen followed after him, and saw him facing the opposite wall, leaning against it with an outstretched palm. He did not notice her entry, or if he did, he was careful to make no sign that might imply that he had.  
  
"Legolas, is something wrong?" she asked again, this time more firmly. It elicited the same response: none.  
  
She shook her head and walked to the door which led out into the hallway. Holding it open she paused, giving him a moment to call her back. When he didn't, she left.  
  
Legolas turned to stare at the now closed door. Feeling grief overcome him, he sank down against the wall and buried his face in his hands.  
  
"Yes." He whispered softly to the darkness.  
  
-END OF CHAPTER III-  
  
A.N. Hi everyone, how's it going? You've managed to make it though an exceptionally long-winded chapter of this story, good for you! I decided to beat my record for longest chapter because I felt they'd been getting shorter and shorter. Unfortunately this came out a little long. Maybe I should have broke it up... well in the immortal words of Liam Lynch, Whatever.  
  
Sarah: Sorry, I hope the bulk of this chapter will make up for how slow it was in coming. Thanks for commenting!  
  
Alexi: Thanks! Now if only I was there to act it out we'd have a real show. I really appreciate the comment!  
  
Lana: I simply adore you for reading and reviewing, hon! ::hugs::  
  
Nienna Tindomerel: Oh god I'm so sorry. I bet reading this fic reminds you why you left... thanks for the reinforcement. I'm glad you've found your fan self again.  
  
Klic: Sorry, gotta keep the suspense up a little longer...lots of hinting in this chapter though so I'm sure some of you have guesses.  
  
Pishymishy: You may love being left in the dark but Legolas doesn't seem to be very fond of it does he? Hehe, poor Elf.  
  
Lauren: Always glad to have a new opinion. Thanks so much for your time!  
  
Karone Evertree: Thanks! Again sorry about the wait. On another note, wouldn't we all like to notice Legolas' nakedness?  
  
Arkade: I'M SO SORRY!  
  
Gionareth: Yes, at last. As for Legolas' illness—I'm not telling. Not yet. I'll give you a hint though. ::glances side to side to make sure the coast is clear be fore leaning down to whisper:: It's not an illness. ::vanishes into the night::  
  
Farflung: Poor Arwen. I think I'd go on that horror ride though anytime, considering the ending (: Thanks for your comments and I hope you'll enjoy more of Legolas nude in this chapter...well I guess there was the sheet. As to Arwen, I don't understand the haters either. I can't say I hate anyone in Lord of the Rings. There's a definite pecking order with certain Elves on the top, but except for the characters you love to hate, they're all fine by me. Thanks again!  
  
-JP out- 


	5. In the Watches of Crickets

Legolas woke slowly to the sound of crickets chirping. Such creatures were not native to the forest of Mirkwood, but he had encountered them occasionally on the road and remembered them from his first visit to Rivendell. He felt relieved. Their presence tonight was all but essential to his mission.

He rose from his crouching position and stretched. Though stiff at first, Legolas felt better by the time he had crossed the room and reached the door. His hand found the handle and he opened it. A calming breeze rushed cool against his cheeks, which had dried tearstained as he slept, and now stung fiercely.

When Elrond and Elladan had come to check on him earlier that evening, the younger had recognized Legolas' robe as one of his. The elder, finally realizing Legolas' plight, had found him two sets of appropriate clothes and promised Legolas more could be made for him any time he wished.

At the moment he was wearing a robe. It was loose, with a top that reached about mid thigh, and pants that fell loosely. The ends hovered just above the floor. They were unsuitable clothes, and the riding set, which was tighter fitting and made of a material designed not to snag on branches, would have been perfect.

Unfortunately, Legolas couldn't manage the straps and ties of such an outfit, and there was absolutely no way he was going to ask someone to help him dress. In light of this, the robe he wore was the default. It would have to be dealt with just as surely as the other handicaps. He wouldn't let them hinder him, not since she'd taught him better.

He reached into one of his deep pockets and withdrew from it a jar. Elrond had also given this to him, as a reward for finishing its vile contents, which the healer insisted would make him feel better.

There was a dull tingling running up and down his limbs. It was the only response his body was giving him though, and he was thankful for even that as he walked to the ledge. From here, the noise seemed to rule the night, and its constant strength heartened him.

He placed the jar on the rail and waited. After a moment of silent apprenticeship, Legolas imitated the call of the crickets, and after another moment he heard one strand of the orchestra bear towards him on silent wings.

Its rumbling chorus was cut short when Legolas deftly reached out and caught it. He cradled it in his hand briefly, marveling at how small it felt, before gently coaxing it into the jar. He repeated this again and again, catching the creatures until he heard a distinct and powerful chirp coming from the jar.

Legolas placed a cloth over the bottle, and with some effort tied a string around it. Once satisfied that the seal was secure, he breathed deeply.

Calming his spirit as he had always been taught seemed more difficult now. He purged his mind of excess emotion and willed himself to be empty and transparent as the jar had once been. Unfortunately he felt too much like it was now, as though crickets were dancing in his stomach too.

At length, Legolas made one final check on the jar, satisfying himself that it was secure.

"Forgive me friends. If it is within your power, please bring me back here." He whispered, and with that, he vaulted over the rail. For Legolas, it was a leap from darkness into darkness.

Arwen skipped the evening meal that night and headed straight for her room. She remembered the first time they had met, how she had been angry with Legolas. Indeed she remembered walking away, determined never to speak to him again. But then he had called to her.

She shook her head angrily. He had not stopped her this time, and more than anything else that was what bothered her. The frustration that filled her was maddening.

Why had he pushed her away just when they had been making so much progress? Obviously there was more to him she had yet to know, but she was ready to be patient and open. Why wasn't he?

"I though he trusted me...even liked me. How could I have misjudged him so?" Arwen cried aloud as though the vermilion ceiling would shout down a perfectly rational answer.

Was he just using her? Buying her out by means of sympathy and bringing her into a relationship that meant nothing to him, yet so much to her?

Though Arwen's heart protested she was too far-gone on her poison logic to pay it any mind. How angry she was, angry and betrayed, and she never wanted to see him again! Scowling into the mirror and cursing his name she put on her nightclothes.

Suddenly, as her hand brushed by her ankle, she paused and glanced down. The greenleaf pendant was gone! Frantic, she rose and dashed off to search throughout her room. Nose to the floor, she covered every square inch, checked her bed, and even went a little out into the hallway.

After half an hour, the search still fruitless, Arwen finally collapsed onto her bed. A great feeling of emptiness seized her. Not only did this feeling seem more deeply rooted than her anger, she had no idea how to deal with it. She had never felt this way before.

Arwen rose and walked over to her dresser. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a wooden box. Opening the lid carefully, she rummaged past an exquisite hairpin, a scarlet ribbon, some yellowed parchment, and various other seemingly unrelated trinkets until she came upon a neatly folded handkerchief. It was stained and ruffled, looking just as it did the day it was folded and placed in the box. The crest of the Mirkwood royal family was embroidered on one corner.

Arwen removed the item, though it was not what she had been searching for. She carried it reverently back to her bed and after one more glance around the room, she sunk onto the bed.

'I have lost my greenleaf.' She thought, and inconsolable, she sunk her face into her pillow, clutching the handkerchief tightly. It would not be the last time she would soak the cushion, or deny herself any rest on his behalf.

Even when Arwen's sobs and sniffles had died away, sleep would not come to her. She lay in her bed, tossing and turning. Once she fell into a light sleep, but awoke moments later, no more rested than before.

Finally, she gave up on the world of dreams, and decided to search for the anklet once more. She must've lost it late last night, and only a few others would have passed the places she had passed between then and now.

Truth be told, in the residential area the greenleaf would be relatively safe. Only trusted elves passed through, and they would almost certainly turn it in to Glorfindel. She had also, however, passed through the Healing wing and other adjacent areas where travelers stayed whom she did not trust so much.

The hallways of Rivendell were empty as a tomb. She was deeply enclosed in thick walls and heard no sounds of the outside. The only consistent noise came from the candles that ran the length of the halls. Arwen also carried her own light, which she used to search wherever shadow fell upon the floor.

Cautiously Arwen retraced her steps. Her trepidation made her overly cautious, and she was always on a lookout for the nearest hiding place. Being up so late at night would be hard to explain, especially since she would have to make up a story.

If she were caught, eventually she would be brought before her father, and telling him she had lost the greenleaf would entail a description of the article and consequently an explanation of how she had come by it. These were things she was not overly eager to confide, and so the simplest course of action seemed to remain unseen.

Arwen walked along the way to the nursing ward until she came to the open air corridor that overlooked the gardens where the tree climbing had occurred. Here she paused, and looking out over the lovely plot, she let her guard slowly drop off.

The moon was crescent, and cast the faintest beams of light upon the foliage. The beams were sliced to pieces by the leaves and trees and fell shattered upon the dark ground in a speckled mosaic of luminescence.

It is only through light, however, that there is shadow. It was as though the garden housed two planes of separate and independent existences. One world bloomed exquisitely and burst into color and pattern under the bright light of day.

The second world loomed just on the edge of its brother, visible in its full might when night came. Now it imitated, taking the shapes of the world of light in a flagrant mockery. As the moon waxed overhead, the shadows would weaken, routed from every corner and every nook. Then the moon would vanish, the darkness would renew itself and with brazen vengeance, it would swallow the light.

Frozen mid-battle, the interwoven light and shadow were breathtakingly beautiful; a little seen element of a place where splendor was so rampant it was almost expected in all aspects of life.

'I wish I could show him.' Arwen found herself thinking, absently reaching for the handkerchief in her pocket, but she quickly scolded herself and commanded her thought and hand away. Still, she couldn't help being amazed by the hold he had on her, even now.

Suddenly, her sharp ears caught the slight whisper of breath, and a rustling of leaves. She looked out into the garden, wondering if she would catch a glimpse of the cat in the boughs of the tree.

She saw something move. Arwen leaned over the rail and held out the candle, straining her eyes, but the shadows and thick leaves hid the creature. She saw that it was approaching a break in its thick green shield and sure enough a moment later something rose into view.

"Arwen?" called a voice. Instantly she drew away from the rail and held up the candle, face to face with her father and Glorfindel.

"Adar, Glorfindel." She acknowledged them innocently, desperately trying to hide her shivers as the cool night air penetrated her thin, arguably insubstantial pajamas. Glorfindel immediately averted his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Arwen?" her father asked, looking perplexed.

"No Adar, I wanted to see the Garden." Arwen replied.

"In your under things?" Elrond continued. Glorfindel was blushing madly.

"Well," she thought for a moment, "It was rather an instantaneous decision."

"And would not the sea of gardens outside your balcony suffice?" Arwen said nothing. It occurred to her to wonder why he and Glorfindel were wandering the halls so late, but she knew to ask would make him think she was trying to change the subject, and convince him further that she had something to hide.

"Go to bed, Arwen." Elrond said, exasperated, "We'll talk more in the morning."

"But Excellency, it is the morning." Glorfindel put in, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Indeed, sirrah." Elrond replied dryly, and with that he walked away. Glorfindel shared a grin with Arwen, and then regaining his modesty, quickly diverted his eyes and hurried off after Elrond.

The next morning, however, Elrond was not present at breakfast and he did not send for Arwen. She spent most of the day moping about her room. She did seek out Glorfindel at one point and confided that she had lost a precious piece of jewelry, which accounted for her late night search.

Nothing had been turned in to him, but he promised to ask around and inform her immediately if it, or anything related surfaced.

At one point she walked to the healing wing, all the way up to his door. She was only looking for the greenleaf after all. For a minute or two she stood there, idly searching the floor. If it had been there she probably would have looked past it, but it wasn't, and after a moment she briskly hurried away.

Arwen was sure to be punctual and fully dressed to breakfast the next morning as well. Her father, both of her brothers, Glorfindel, and Erestor all attended as well. Arwen was glad for their company.

It was doubtful her father would lecture her in such a public place, but it had happened before. He had never, however, lectured her alone before her brothers, or any of his advisers and rarely in the presence of Glorfindel.

Everyone at the table stood as Arwen approached and they all sat together. Elrond nodded towards her in acknowledgement. Arwen was relieved to see that he did not seem angry or particularly eloquent this morning.

The talk was lighthearted and easygoing. Once convinced her father would not confront her, Arwen returned to her other musings. Had she thought about it, she would have realized that not eating and ignoring the friendly conversation only made Elrond more worried about her. But she didn't. She had other things to think about.

"Lady Arwen?" Arwen turned to see a servant standing behind her seat. The servant bowed, her dress momentarily sweeping the floor.

"She was discovered wandering the hallways." She said politely, and as Arwen stood to see, the servant pushed a bundle into her arms. Arwen fell back into her seat, shocked.

Small it was, and covered with jet-black fur. Its eyes were hazel colored, and it had a long bushy tail.

"Mrow." It announced loudly enough to draw the attention of most everyone in the hall.

"But she isn't mine." Arwen protested, however the servant was already gone and the cat seemed to disagree. She quickly established herself on Arwen's lap and nudged her arm. It was then that Arwen noticed a card on the creature's collar.

Upon closer examination, she saw that it was just a small folded square of recycled parchment, but clearly printed on the front was her name.

She ignored the attention of the hall and opened it. On the inside was written:

_The most amazing things grow on the trees in Rivendell._

_She stayed with me yesterday, but now she wants to leave._

_I cannot blame her, as I have been downright Orcish to my_

_guests lately. I hope she can find it in her heart to give me _

_another chance. I have found that until now I did not appreciate_

_that every morning, no matter how dark the night, the sun rises._

_Her name is Horple._

There was no signature, and no need. A smile curved across Arwen's face, and then she noticed something else. The collar in which the note had been tucked was not a collar, but a very familiar and welcome anklet.

She gently removed the greenleaf and placed it back on her ankle, noting that the latch seemed to be tighter. Arwen laughed gleefully, and startled the sleeping cat by lifting her up and dancing over to the window with her. Arwen yawned suddenly and returned to her father.

"I think I'll go have a small rest father." She said, kissing him on the cheek. Then, her smile no less dazzling, she waltzed off with her unnerved dance partner, Horple.

Meanwhile the entire hall looked on, stunned at the sudden change in the lady's demeanor.

"Amazing Adar. What did you lace that note with?" Elladan asked.

"Yes," Elrohir continued, "And how was the cat unaffected?"

Elrond shook his head. It was one of those rare moments when he didn't know what to think.

"This was not of my doing." He finally acknowledged.

"Arwen just left the hall acting like Elladan does when he sees a girl he hasn't fallen in love with before. There has to be some explanation." Elrohir replied, inciting a dirty look that promised later retribution from his brother.

"Don't worry Adar, you can tell us. Remember when you told us the truth about Arwen's fish going to Valinor? We never told." Elrohir continued, ignoring Elladan.

"I did not confide that in you. The two of you knew the truth because you were the ones who decided to take the fish horseback riding." Elrond reminded them.

The twins blushed and Elladan smiled, noting his chance for revenge,

"I must have forgotten that..." His voice was nostalgic, "Of course that whole thing was Elrohir's idea. I'd never have done a stupid thing like that. Exactly alike, the two of us are. Excepting of course what Elrohir lacks in intelligence."

"Hey!" yelled Elrohir, elbowing his older brother. Elladan coughed and just managed to raise his napkin to his mouth before a piece of his breakfast emerged. He growled and grabbed Elladan's shirt, but the younger twisted free. They faced each other menacingly but before any further contact could be made, Elrond silenced them.

He angrily and swiftly sent them away, one with Glorfindel, the other with Erestor, to expend their plentiful energy helping the two elders with the mundane duties of the day.

The chief adviser left first, following after a sullen Elladan, and giving Elrond a wry smile as he passed.

"You expect that after they surpass the age of 3000 or so, your parenting skills will have become obsolete." Elrond commented in passing.

Erestor smiled, "If that is the current estimate I would consider it optimistic. In any case, you could do with a refreshing of those particular skills. After all, when he arrives, you'll need them."

-end-

Ok guys, I gotta ask for more reviews! Just 3 for chapter 4, and that just makes me sad. I know its partially my fault for slow updates, but if you're reading

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

Review! To those who did, thanks so much. You're the reason I keep going.

Officer Budbabe: Hey, thanks for the review. I'm glad you like the story. Here's your update and I hope you still like the story. I have to say your comment made me blush: you're too kind, but thanks!

Karone Evertree: Hey again. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support. You're the closest thing I have to a regular (: BTW, Did you like Legolas as an entomologist?

Sarah: Thanks, and no problem. Hope you like this one.

...please review


	6. A Son's Duties

That very hour Arwen sought out the prince of Mirkwood. His quick footsteps answered her knock, and immediately the door swung wide. He stood framed in the doorway for a moment, vivid like paint on a canvas.

She mastered herself in the same moment.

Legolas heard the stalwart breath, and before another could go between them, her lips glanced against his.

It was instantaneous, magnificent.

She stole everything in him, and he stood there, an incarnadine shell.

Warmth spread to the tips of his fingers, but he couldn't move or think or breath. She had stricken him dumb, there, as they stood on the threshold.

The lady placed Horple into Legolas' wooden limbs and placing her hands on his cheeks, she leveled his eyes with her own. Pressing her forehead against his, she commanded him.

"Tell me your burden, and I will help you bear it."

Her voice flickered, and taking his wrist, she drew him into the room and sat with him on the bed.

When Legolas found his voice, he began without protest, "We have been telling stories to pass the time. The one I will now tell is known to none outside of Mirkwood, and maliciously falsified to many within that place."

"Do you remember when I told you of that witch who had seduced my father long ago?" he asked. She nodded, and he smiled achingly.

"Good. That will make a long tale shorter. Suffice to know that our relationship had little warmed between then and when my story takes place. We basically ignored each other, though I still felt her lashing tongue through my father.

"Adar and I argued viciously. I often disagreed with the course of actions she, and thus he decided were best for our people, especially when it came to securing the borders.

"I hated her for the control she exercised over adar, for the dotage adar showered upon her in my stead, and for the sheer inadequacy she displayed in taking my naneth's place.

"I began spending more and more time away on patrols, which was to both our liking.

"Then one day, I returned to find my father waiting for me in my room…

o

"My lord," Legolas saluted Thranduil warily. He couldn't remember the last time the other had actually acknowledged him, let alone sought him out.

"Legolas, my son." It was a father's tone, warm and affectionate. Legolas' defenses fell slightly, and curiosity peeked overtop them. This visit was turning out to be full of surprises. Thranduil hadn't spoken civilly to him in what seemed like ages.

"Audiences become difficult to arrange with one so frequently absent. You make yourself elusive, my child. It has been too long since we have truly spoken as father and son." The elder elf chided, but his tone was fatherly, and his disapproval sounded half feigned.

All this seemed suspicious to Legolas. Thranduil was an eloquent elf, and when his temper was in reign he could coat his words with honey and feed them to the most stubborn and determined of opponents.

Legolas winced, wondering when he had come to consider he and his father opponents.

"I felt my bow was more necessary on our ever-threatened borders then my mind was in your great halls, my lord." Legolas' words were still guarded and formal. He sat on the bed and began dismissively tending his blades.

"I apologize. For whatever I have done to make myself your lord above your father."

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, which cut straight through Legolas' doubt and instantly disarmed him. The prodigal son felt guilt well up in his throat like rising bile. He let the whetstone fall still against the partially sharpened blade.

'If nothing else, you owe this elf a second chance,' his mind scolded Legolas.

"I too must ask forgiveness…father." Legolas found the rediscovered word to his liking.

He smiled, and his father returned the expression in earnest. The whetstone began scraping again, nervously, on the edge of the knife.

Soon, both had settled into chairs with a carafe of wine between them. The elf king requested Legolas' thoughts on the situation of the borders. Legolas eagerly obliged, glad to see his father was showing interest in his opinion.

They spoke at length on this matter, and Thranduil gave his word to reorganize and redistribute the armed forces to deal with the ever escalating threat of Dol Guldur. Legolas paused only once to retrieve a rag and begin the polishing of his blades.

"I had no idea the sentries were so harried." The ancient lord shook his head, "You see how much use you are to me? Until true war breaks out, a king cannot spare a moment on the field.

"It is difficult to paint an accurate picture of conditions from the watered down reports I hear from a scribe whose account has been borne on the mouths of ten or more messengers and changed slightly with each recitation."

When Legolas' tongue was finally exhausted of the plight of the soldiers, he sat back and drained what was left of his first glass of wine. Busy with talking, he had barely touched the drink.

Thranduil was fingering his chin thoughtfully and seemed to be mulling over all that Legolas had said.

Finally, Legolas drew him into a telling of what had happened in the court over his long absence.

It took quite a while for father to bring son back up to speed, since for some time Legolas had avoided the political scene deliberately, out of disgust.

They spoke long into the evening, and the darkness of night had already gripped the world for hours when they finally fell into silence once more.

Whether his euphoria was due to wine or circumstance, Legolas couldn't say exactly. Perhaps some exhilarating mix of the two was what made him feel delight as he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages.

To Legolas, the friendly atmosphere was as intoxicating as the wine. His cheeks were touched with red mirth and he sat in his chair easily. His knives sat upon the dresser in immaculate radiance.

"Earlier you said you had been seeking me out for some time unsuccessfully. You must have something more specific in mind then just a rambling discussion of borders and politics.

"Have you come with yet undisclosed intentions?" Legolas asked, refilling both their glasses.

There was no immediate answer to his question, and when Legolas playfully looked to his father's eyes for an explanation he was confused by what he saw. There seemed to be debate behind his father's gaze.

When Thranduil finally spoke, reluctance dragged at each syllable,

"Indeed, I have another purpose." He finished his wine and poured the rest of the carafe in his glass, "I have come with a request."

Legolas amiable urged his father on with a nod.

"I have come to ask you to meet with Kestra." The words blew from his lips like feathers and dropped between them like a granite wall.

Legolas stood and stepped over to the burning hearth.

"You cannot ask this of me," the son appeared to be pleading into the flames.

"I am asking you," Thranduil stood also, "You have never given her a fair chance, always you have judged her by what came before. I will tell you now, she is not your mother. Someday you must learn to see that there is merit in a female besides the maternal."

Legolas turned an icy look on his father, so Thranduil concluded gently:

"Showing courteousness to Kestra is no betrayal of your mother. She would desire peace in this house."

Near silence descended on the room, broken only by the cackle of the flames. Legolas' mind was ablaze. He felt like a hurricane was raging between his ears.

"I will not do this for my king…"

He was resolute, and his father gave a troubled sigh. It seemed Legolas was decided. To his surprise, his son continued.

"However, since it is my father that asks…" Legolas trailed off a second time, and Thranduil withheld both judgment and breath.

"I will see her."

Thranduil strode from the room, victorious.

o

Legolas paused in his story and looked down to Arwen. At some point during the telling, she had leaned against his chest.

Thus pillowed in the warmth of the prince, Arwen seemed content to listen, looking to his face only when the rumblings of his speech ceased to caress her cheek. She waited patiently for him to continue, giving no sign of whatever she might be thinking.

He didn't remember her leaning over, or taking his hand in hers. His right hand absently stroked the feline which had curled up beside him, while the left sat enfolded in her palms, their fingers interlocking. She seemed to like his hands, often touching or holding them as she did now.

Not that he minded. It just seemed strange, but then, so was the whole affair. As he thought, their relationship was unsettlingly undefined. They had never tried to describe what lay between them, or lay out any plan for the future.

'We are roving through darkness together,' Legolas mused dryly, his own ironies not lost on him.

But, come to think of it, this had never bothered him until he'd thought to analyze it. He smiled at her, assuaged by this realization. An expedition through darkness could little frighten him any more. Not so long as faith intervened to keep his hand entwined in hers.

-end-

A.N. Wow, this has been a bit long in coming, ne? Man, you guys deserve a better author…in any case, you all rock.

Anyway, I was thinking about this particular pairing, and the fact that its so underappreciated and I think the only L/A fanart I've ever found is this one

http:elfwood.lysator.liu.se/art/a/n/anez/lovers.jpg.html

Has anyone else ever found any other L/A pics? Just thought I'd ask, since its frustrating me at the moment…but on to YOUR REVIEWS!

Eldameldor: You were the first to review Ch. 5! I'm gonna give you a smiley, you lucky duck. :D Besides that, I bet by now you've been waiting so long that you wish you'd discovered the story later, if at all. I'm sorry, but thanks for the review and I hope I can update more.

Theamazingtechnicoloredringwraith: First let me compliment you on your spiffy name. I am not only impressed by the name itself, but also by the fact that you dutifully type it in each time you review. Kudos to you! I got lazy just trying to type it once, and considered shortening it to TATCRW, theama…etc. etc., or even just Bob, but then I realized that that would be shirking my responsibilities to you reviewers, which I would never do. (In denial, aren't I?) Anyway, I am really glad you don't find the story corny, and props again on your rockin' name!

Karone Evertree: Hey! Its always nice to hear from you! Anyway, an entomologist is someone who studies bugs. I also love dogs, in fact there is a big white one sleeping next to me as I type. He's a cutie, but he's very muddy and personally I wouldn't put any jewelry I cared about around his neck.

As to the comment on the twins, I think it was what Tolkien didn't say that characterized them as comic relief. They are rather undefined characters, to be interpreted at will, so I suppose most authors use them to add humor without making the other characters seem OOC. Also, they are relatively young males, so they make prime candidates for mischief, and its always fun to contrast the two lovable troublemakers to their stoic father. As for your review, thanks for saying anything!

Sarah: High five, new chapter! My undying thanks for the multiple reviews!

Hjhjhjhhjhj: Greetings!

Eep: Your enjoyment is my enjoyment. Thanks for the review!

Eregon: Glad you liked the garden part. I wasn't sure how it would come out but you know I was watching LOTR and I was again amazed by the beauty of Rivendell. Anyway, thanks for the review.

Yanic: Okay

Yanic: Okay

Natalia2: Thanks, I will for sure.

Kasmi Kassim: Wow, that was such a wonderful review! I was looking at your profile and I noticed you're going to the UW! I'm from Bainbridge Island, just across the water from Seattle. Go huskies!

Yanic: Thanks for your review, I would love to have you continue to review! Also, thanks for your continued encouragement. Those little reminders really help.

Neepster: I will, for sure! If I've earned a smiley, I've done my job.

Xymi Angel Ghost: Thanks for the awesome compliment. I hope you keep reading!

Bruteous: Nice name, I salute it. Here's the next chapter, let me know what you think. Also, if you want, I can email out updates…that goes for the rest of you too.

Antisocial Mint: This chapter had a little more romance, so I hope that was okay. Thanks for the comment, I really took it into consideration.

Lynx Yamato: Hey, your review inspired me to finally get this story finished. Thanks, and I hope you liked this chapter! Hey is that a dandelion over there…

Love to all!

-JP


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